Never Ever Land
by Gumi Reloaded
Summary: Rurouni Kenshin AU universe. Megumi crosses paths with her past. (Hiko and Megumi) Flashback
1. Chapter 1

Never Ever Land

Date: Tuesday, February 7 - Wednesday February 8

Time: Evening, All Night, Morning.

Place: Kenshin's Nest Safe house, Lower District New Meiji, Streets of New Meiji, Library

Characters: Megumi

Megumi wasn't sure how long she stood in the entrance of the little shack. Long enough for the slender form a man leaping from rooftop to rooftop to vanish. Even then, after her new friend was nothing more than a rapidly retreating memory, her eyes tracked towards where she thought he might be moving.

(He's gone…)

She leaned against the door and looked outside at the darkening city. The sky was changing colors, now that there was no sun to keep it beautiful and blue. She looked up above the nearly black silhouettes of the building and gazed up at the fading periwinkle heavens. There were a couple of stars already out. Megumi looked at them and then realized that they were not stars at all, but planets, Jupiter and Venus, if she recalled correctly, their faint light diminished by light pollution.

Megumi glanced back at the now empty shack. It didn't seem quite as cozy and comforting as it had been when another person had shared the space with her. She stepped outside, wincing as her bare feet hit the cold roof. It was cold. She exhaled, her breath heavy with mist, and took several more steps until she was standing on the edge of the roof.

Leaning over slightly, she looked down at the ground below. Illuminated by the occasional vehicle moving quickly (trying to get out of the neighborhood no doubt) the street was a black line punctuated by traffic lights and a couple of streetlamps that hadn't been shot out. She took one more step till her toes were off the lip of the roof and she was balancing precariously on the balls of her heels.

(It would be so easy…) Megumi shifted her weight a little (just to lean forward and fall…). She longed to experience the sensation of flying again, of being weightless, her shoulders freed of burdens and her heart devoid of care. There would be a price for that moment of peace. There always was.

She hesitated for what seemed like an eternity, a bloody whip thin figure perched on an impossibly high precipice and then took a step back. (I made a promise…we made a promise to each other, one that was binding) Megumi glanced down at her finger, focusing on the smallest digit and smiled slightly. While her death would not necessarily negate her vow, it would be going against what she felt was the spirit of the tradition that she'd made with her friend. (He would not want me to do such a thing…)

And so Megumi took another step back, and then another. She sat down on the roof, bringing her knees up against her chest and wrapping her skinny arms around herself in a comfortless hug. More stars, real stars were appearing in the sky. Had she been on the ground she could not see them, the building was that high. Megumi tried to count the shimmering objects, but more began to appear and she lost count, focusing instead on the moon, the pale sibling of the sleeping sun that was beginning to rise on the far side of the rooftop.

Less bright, but just as beautiful as the sun, the moon began its wordless ascent – moving inexorably upwards over another set of buildings, spilling out icy, silvery light on the city below. There was no comfort to be gained by this rising, not an iota of warmth to enjoy or be sustained from. The moon was pitiless, cold and uncaring, a stoic celestial body that had far better things to do than ponder on the lonely people below its tangent.

The wind was picking up. Megumi felt it tugging on her hair, moving through the worn, torn clothing she was wearing. She shivered and reluctantly stood and slowly walked back to the dark little shack. Shutting the door behind her, she looked around the room. There was an electric crank light on one of the many boxed piled up. She took it and twisted the handle till a sickly yellow light began to glow from the LED Panels. It wasn't much, but more than enough for her needs.

She then ate, forcing herself to consume the rest of the onigiri and rice and drink another bottle of water. When she was finished she washed the dishes and rice cook as best she was able, not wanting to leave Kenshin's little nest in a mess.

(And leave I must…) She thought as she tip toed over to the trap door that she'd shown her. She raised it with a creak and looked down at the dark set of stairs that wound down into pitch black darkness. At looked dark and terrifying to travel down. Megumi quickly shut the trap door, her face paling with apprehension.

She remembered Kenshin's warning and decided to stay put for one more night. (I'll leave tomorrow…when the sun is back up) She decided, moving back towards the pile of blankets next to the boxes. She sat down, wrapped the blankets around her and for the first time, noticed the journal she was holding in her hands, a journal that Kenshin had written in and given to her. It was...dusty. Frowning, Megumi brushed at the dust, then paused, gently rubbing the soft grit between his fingers. (This isn't dust...it's ash)

She looked at the journal, wondering what story it told in between its ash covered bindings and carefully opened it and began to read.

October 15, 2040. My Name is Rin. I am fourteen years old and have never, ever done anything worth writing about. I'm writing this journal in English in the hope that it will make it harder for the doctors to read. I've never kept a journal in my life, but decided that a late start is better than nothing.

I learned English from my older brother. He's dead. My brother died in the war. So did my father. My mother, I think she missed my father so much that when she got sick, she didn't try and get better and died in her bed, facing the window, wearing Dad's bathrobe. That was three years ago.

Everyone in my family is dead, except me.

I wish I was dead.

Megumi reached for the crank light and turned it several more times, so that the LED light was brighter and she could read a little easier. The girl's writing was soft, feminine in form with loops and squiggles and all sorts of tender embellishments that were utterly at odds with the macabre tone of the child's journal.

The doctors found me at an orphanage. They took blood from my arm and came back three weeks later and took me away with them. I didn't want to go, but they showed me paperwork and told me I had no choice. The doctors told me that I was going to be a part of something special, that I was going to help protect people and make the world a better, kinder place.

They lied.

With a sinking heart, Megumi kept on reading, pulling the think blankets

close around her shoulders.

November 24, 2040

I've not been given a shot yet. Not yet. I hope I never do because I've seen and heard what happens to the other children. There is a ward for the children who have not had shots yet. Dr. Takani calls us the Control Group. There is another ward for children who have been given shots. It's the noisy ward. I hate the sounds that are coming from it. Screams, shouts, cries for help. The sounds never stop, not even during the day. It's worse at night. Much worse. Those of us in the Control Group all having nightmares and no matter how hard we try to plug our ears and stay awake nothing helps.

The took Miroko away today. She kicked and screamed and fought to stay with us. I tried to help her, we all did, but there were soldiers and we didn't stand a chance.

November 25, 2040

I heard Miroko last night. She was screaming, shouting saying horrible words that I didn't know she even knew. I didn't recognize my friend's voice. It sounded so wrong, so angry and horrible. I wonder what's happened to her? What is going to happen to me?

November 30, 2040

I can't hear Miroko any more. I think she's dead. I hope she's dead. The last few days have been too horrible to even write about. There are not many children left in the second ward. It's becoming quiet and that means that sooner or later they will come for more of us in the control group.

December 3, 2040

They picked me.

They picked me. What am I going to do? I don't want a shot! I tried running

away today. I was able to crawl out of a window in the bathroom and was able to run across a field of snow before a soldier caught me by the hair and carried me back to the ward. The snow was cold, but beautiful and it felt wonderful to be outside, if even for only a few minutes.

Tomorrow they are going to come for me. Tomorrow I am going to die, or wish that I was dead. I don't want to die. What person does? When my brother was alive, we talked about what we would be when we grew up. He wanted to be a solider. I wanted to be an actor or a singer. I love to sing, even now, when there's nothing left to sing about. Now he's dead, buried in China if I remember right. Will they bury me? I heard some nurses talking about the children in the other ward. They said that the ones who die get "ashed". I think I know what that means. A part of me looks forward to being ashed. Anything is better than being kept in a cage and watching child after child taken away.

There's a part of me that still wants to live. I am after all only fourteen. I feel in my heart, there there's a lot of life still left in me, that there's things I need to do, experiences that I need to have so I can say I lived a full, good life. My life as I know it, will end tomorrow.

My name is Rin. I am fourteen years old. I have never, ever done anything worth writing about, but tonight I will make a list of the things I wanted to do. Perhaps if there is a next life, if I am meant for more than ashes, I will remember this list. I hope so, because it is a good one.

I have never, ever kissed a boy. I have never, ever gone all the way with a boy. I have never, ever been to college. I have never, ever been married. I have never, ever been a mother. I have never, ever seen the ocean, or the mountains. I have never, ever been to an opera or a ballet or a play.

I have never, ever painted with oil paints, or seen Paris, or eaten a croissant. I have never, ever gone swimming at a swimming pool with a bikini on.

I have never, ever heard a boy tell me he loves me. I have never, ever told a boy I love him back.

I have never, ever really lived at all.


	2. Chapter 2

Megumi wasn't sure how long she stared at the journal, at delicately written words that whispered of a little life snuffed out like a candle. Carefully, hoping against hope, she turned dusty page after page in the ash infused journal, praying that there would be some sign that the girl, that the young woman named Rin had somehow managed to beat the odds and lived to write another entry.

Other than a desperately tender list of Rin's never-ever experiences, there was nothing, save a page near the end that had a scrawled email address and what Megumi assumed was Ken-san's mobile number. His writing was the antithesis of the girl's, masculine, and a little messy.

(Nothing…but ashes…)

Megumi picked the journal, the little heartbreaking accounting of a life gone wrong, and held it against her chest, cradling the dirty, dusty document like a mother would an ailing child. She was horrified, heartsick, and indescribably sad as the full ramifications of this loss, this utter lack of living hit home.

(My father…)

She sank down into the nest of blankets, still holding the journal as she curled into a little ball.

(He wasn't just someone who worked on the Himura Project)

She closed her eyes, remembering against her will watching her father's calm face as she fell away from him after he'd dropped her, the lack of care or compassion as she struck the floor, her head cracking open on the cold marble.

(He WAS the project…)

She swallowed, swallowed again, then had to get up quickly and run outside where she was violently sick to her stomach, vomiting over the side of the building. Heaving, her body trying to expel the idea of such monstrosity along with the food that her system so desperately needed, she sobbed in between shuddering coughs until she didn't have tears to shed or stomach bile to bring up. (How could he do this?) Weakened, she rolled over to her side, her arm hanging limply over the lip of the roof. (How could he inflict such horrors on innocent children?)

A dark part of her mind whispered that she knew perfectly well how such a thing could happen. (Is it so different from what I had a hand in doing?) There wasn't that big of an ethical gap between innocent children and innocent solders who thought they were doing their duty to their country, only to have their lives taken violently from them as their DNA broke down, causing instant systemic organ failure. And while she could claim perhaps that she didn't know that the serum was going to be tested years before it was ready, and wasn't exactly a willing participating in the research, it didn't negate the fact that a part of that unnatural concoction came from her and that ignorance counted little against the life of another human being. Megumi groaned. She could taste vomit in her mouth and rolled to her stomach as another round of useless dry heaves overcame her.

(I am my father's child after all…)

It was the worst single realization of her very long life.

She spent most of the night thusly, her body exposed and prone to the dark sky and the cold, laying still and silent like the dead thing she never could quite be. Eventually, she rolled from her side to her back and watched, her tear soaked lashes freezing on her face as the stars and moon rotated overhead in a celestial dance that she didn't understand and certainly had no part of. She was numb, freezing from the inside out at the realization that the horrendous legacy of her father hadn't stopped with herself, her brothers or even Rin and the other nameless, faceless children of the HIMURA project. (It extends through me, like an aggressive cancer that has metastasized) She closed her eyes, feeling decidedly non-benign.

She considered the counsel that Ken-san had given her on another roof when she wanted to cast herself off of it. His admonition in the aftermath of such horrific knowledge seemed laughable, foolish and impossibly naïve, a gentle platitude that didn't pass the muster of her wretched choices and repugnant legacy.(If he knew who I was, whose child I am, perhaps he would have given me a well needed push…)

Meg swung her overhanging hand slightly, the cold air causing her to shiver. That old, useless temptation flared. She ignored it. What use was dying if you didn't stay dead? No. She had to come up with some other way of atoning.

(How can I possibly make amends?) She thought of all the other children that her father had destroyed. She thought of kind Captain Sagara and his brave officers who she had inadvertently helped murder.

But most of all, as she lay on the roof looking up at the sky, she thought of Rin.

I have never, ever really lived at all… She found it beyond ironic that a child who wanted to survive and experience life had been cruelly culled while a woman who found no redeeming value in drawing breath was condemned to experience year after year of existence.

(Would that we could trade places…) Megumi frowned, moving her hand to rest atop the now healed hole in her chest. (Would that she could have the time allotted to me instead…)

Megumi's frown deepened as she looked up at the dark sky and the pale moon's valleys, plains and shadows. (I have all the time in the world…) A thought formed, was discarded and then cautiously was picked up again and re-examined.

She thought and thought, unaware that hours were passing, that the darkness was waning and a greyish dawn was approaching fast on the Eastern horizon.

(…and so does she) While the child's body had been reduced to ashes, her dreams, her hopes, her heartbreaking list of never-evers had gained a foothold in another life, had found a home in another's thoughts and memory.

(Rin will live in me. Through me.)

Megumi stood up, her icy features frozen with resolve as she marched back to the shack.

ebruary 8, 2060 My Name is Megumi. I am 41 years old* and have never, ever done anything worth writing about. I'm writing this journal on behalf of and in the memory of Rin in the hope that it will make it harder for her story to ever be forgotten. I've never kept a journal in my life, but decided that a late start is better than nothing. Tonight I will make a list of the things that Rin wanted to do and add to it the things that I have never ever done. Perhaps if there is a next life, if that child is more than ashes, she will remember this list.

I hope so, because it is a good one.

Megumi began with Rin's dreams, a list that comprised the hopes and desires of a very dead young girl and added to them a couple of rusty hopes and half-forgotten goal of a very weary and rather cynical woman. As far as lists went, it was nothing spectacular, but as Rin had wisely written on the eve of her demise, a late start was better than nothing.

Once her list was done, Megumi carefully re-read the entire journal, turning each page slowly as she committed the contents to memory. Near the very back, she found that she'd missed something earlier. She gasped and hesitantly pulled out a small piece of paper that had been slipped tightly up against the crack of the journal binding and that had photo stickers randomly affixed to it. They were old photos and small, each not much larger that the width of two thumbnails set side by side.

"Kenshin," she murmured, wide eyed as she looked at the odd set of photographs. They were pictures of her friend as a child. He'd been a tiny child, a darling red haired whisp of a boy, who seemed hell bent on making his companion, a dark haired, handsome man who was anything but whispy smile. In a couple of photographs, the little boy seemed to almost be succeeding. She looked at the child, seeing in the youthful features the hints of Kenshin's adult visage, and then looked very carefully at the other person in the photograph, a man she surprisingly knew.

(What are the odds…) Megumi thought as she ghosted a finger over one of the stickers, remembering back to an unexpected meeting many years before, of an evening that had been filled with conversation, music and dancing. The man had aged, but only a little. (Except for his eyes) she conceded, seeing in the dark orbs the heavy burden that time and knowledge had bestowed to the tall soldier.

"I wonder if you're still alive," she wondered aloud as she took the photo covered slip of paper out of the journal and set it carefully atop one of the boxes, (This was not something that Ken-san would have wanted to part with), "and what you would think of this fine, fine world we're living in?" They had spoken, she and the man who Kenshin was trying to make smile, had spoken of many things that night, of hopes and possibilities and the promises of a world and of people being better.

Megumi smirked, her expression becoming bitter as she compared the woman she had been then (so young, so hopeful and idealistic) with the woman she was now and wondered if Kenshin's companion had fared any better in his endeavors. Somehow she doubted it. A part of her wondered what role he played in the HIMURA project, why he of all people, had somehow bonded with the child in the pictures. A larger part of her didn't want to know.

(Too many questions…not enough answers….)

She sat silently for several minutes, thinking about how this potentially changed things with Kenshin, with herself. The moment of reverie passed. It was growing bright outside and she had to get moving. Megumi forced herself to prepare more rice and eat it. She would need energy for the task ahead. Once she'd shoved more hot rice down her sore throat and swallowed bottled water till she felt like bursting, she began to tidy up the little nest of Ken-san's making. The sun was rising and she would soon need to leave this place.

She folded up the blankets on the floor, placing them neatly atop cardboard boxes, then after a moment's hesitation, stripped naked, folded up the bloodstained clothing and set the crimson dyed shirt and sweatpants beside the blankets that smelled faintly like her friend. The clothes he'd lent her could not be salvaged, but she knew better than to casually discard evidence of her almost but not quite demise. She then washed herself as well as she was able with some bottled water. (I'll have to find a shower or bathroom as soon as I can and do a better job) Megumi worriedly, hoping that she now just looked ill-kept rather than as if she'd just been shot in the chest.

She put on her scrubs, grimacing with distaste as she pulled the hateful garments over her head and up her slender hips, then rummaged around the shack for several minutes, hoping against hope that she might find an old pair of shoes, socks or boots to slip on her bare feet. She came up empty handed or specifically empty footed. Nor was she able to find anything that resembled a jacket, sweatshirt or coat. She was out of luck. (And unless I want to attract undue attention, Ken-san is going to be out a blanket until I can find other clothing to wear …) Regretfully, Megumi picked a blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders, trying it on for size.

(ooc: *While Megumi is chronologically 41, her physiological age is closer to that of a woman in her late teens to early twenties. Rapid cellular regeneration dramatically slows the aging process, an unexpected side effect of synthetic DNA intracellular bonding. )


	3. Chapter 3

**HIKO**

It had been a long night. After the conversation with Kenshin, there was no way Hiko had been able to sleep. He tried watching a movie on TV, some black and white flick involving betrayal and revenge, but found himself just staring at the screen, thinking about what his idiot had told him. When his mind finally wound back to the present moment, he wasn't sure how long it had been since the movie ended and the television station had signed off for the night.

Restlessly, he turned off the TV and tossed the remote into the recently-vacated chair. Stripping out of his work clothes and changing into a pair of comfortable draw-string pants, he collected Wado from her stand, and went downstairs, not even bothering to turn on the lights in the studio. One look at the wheels sitting quietly in the dirty, orange light from the street lamps filtering in through the windows, and Hiko bypassed his studio entirely, heading through the doorway that led into the small warehouse space that took up the entire back half of the building's ground floor. There wouldn't be any throwing tonight. Kata, however…

Several hours later, Hiko's mind was calmer, but he was still filled with a restless energy that was getting on his nerves. And he was hungry. He headed upstairs, dug out an old t-shirt, thought about how cold it was outside and tugged an ancient hoodie over the screen printed design of a turtle in a top hat. He didn't even remember where the t-shirt had come from. Probably something Kenshin had been dying to do, that resulted in a ridiculous addition to his wardrobe.

When he headed out the door, a pale sun had already cleared the horizon and was peeking between the buildings, fingers of light stretching across sidewalks that were already showing signs of life.

There was a diner a few miles from the studio. The food there was terrible, and that was just how Hiko liked it. The worse the food, the less likely it was to draw a crowd. A jog would cut down on the walking time, and he could kill two birds with one stone-burn off the excess energy, and get breakfast.

Hiko was preparing to continue his jog across the street when the light changed. There was enough traffic now that even he didn't want to try to dart across. Instead, he waited with a small herd of people on their way to early shifts, and idly looked across the intersection at the matching herd on the other side. One face in particular stood out. Well, she stood out for myriad reasons, not the least of which being a blanket and a distressing lack of shoes.

She was- She should have been older, Hiko thought, as he stared hard at the young woman, eyes narrowed. Instead, she barely looked any older than when they'd first met, all those years ago. The only time they'd met. But an evening like that, a moment of unguarded conversation, dancing, simply living and having fun, becomes a cherished treasure, a memory carefully tucked away when it's the last bright spot before a dark stretch of time.

Hiko continued to stare, uncertain if his mind was playing tricks on him, and uncaring if he looked like some kind of stalker. Was he finally going crazy? Did the drugs he'd taken finally get the better of him? He thought stopping all that would save his sanity. He'd worked too hard to put all that behind him. But after making contact with Kenshin, what else could this be, but a ghost from his past? He should have stayed home and done more kata.

The light changed, and Hiko was already pulling off his hoodie as he started across the intersection. Even if she wasn't the same person- but how could she not be, his mind interrupted- she still needed something more than a blanket. As he drew closer, it became harder to deny it. He was going crazy. Because there was no way that wasn't Takani Megumi. Holy gods around them.

Gripping the hoodie tightly in one fist, with a surreal feeling that bordered on lightheadedness, Hiko called out, "Megumi?"

**MEGUMI**

Megumi kept her head down and the blanket clutched tightly around her shoulders as she waited for what seemed like an eternity for the traffic light to change from one color to the next.

Not sure where to look and dreading the embarrassment of eye contact, she stared fixedly at the storm drain that ran along the length of the cold sidewalk. Melted snow, no longer cold or clean, was running downhill, catching any dust and garbage that was in the ditch, and carrying it towards her. Megumi watched as a cast aside food wrapper was caught up by the little deluge, the yellow and pink tissue paper lifting and turning on miniature muddy eddies, turning clockwise like a brightly colored dervish.

The metropolitan flotsam and jetsam moved along till, still twirling, the wrapper came to teeter for a few seconds on the lip of the storm drain as if it knew and was fighting against its inevitable fall. Fate won out and it tumbled down into darkness, moving out of sight and out of mind to everyone save a bare foot woman who had much preferred its company over the strangers she was forced to stand beside.

"Momma, look, over there," A child was tugging on his mother's winter wrap and pointing, still too young to realize that he was overtly pointing out what others had already covertly noticed and commented on. "She's not wearing any shoes and has a blanket instead of a coat. How come?"

The mother put her hand around her child's shoulder and turned the boy forward, "Hush, it's not polite to stare," she chided softly, glancing out of the corner of her eyes at the younger woman's raw, exposed toes.

"But," the boy craned his neck back, curious as to the reason he had to wear shoes and socks and the dark haired woman didn't, "isn't she cold?" There was worry in his voice mixed with the natural curiosity that came part and parcel with being five. To his surprise the strange lady looked at him, just for a second, and smiled a little. Her lips were pale, nearly the color of the light blue-grey blanket she was wearing. He liked blue, but somehow knew that someone's mouth and feet should not be that color.

Megumi watched as the boy's mother bent down and whispered something in her child's ear. His open expression changed a little, become wary and guarded and she couldn't help but wonder what he'd been told. Reaching for his mother's hand, the child looked away from where she was standing, but not without a quick and furtive glance in the general direction.

Glancing to the right, Megumi was discomforted to see that someone else was starting at her, a wizened old woman, who even from two meters away, stank of mentholated camphor and arthritic crème. The woman frowned and took a step closer, eyes narrowing with concentration, as they peered, vulture-like from behind thick, yellowing bifocals.

"I'm telling you, Haru, I've seen that girl before," the woman announced to an old man standing beside her, her tone sour and accusatory.

"Yes, Dear," the old man muttered, a case study in what Megumi suspected was spousal long-suffering.

Megumi blushed and looked across the wide city street at the light, counting down the seconds until the "DO NOT WALK" signal changed its mind.

Megumi?

She startled when a man's deep voice called out her name and looked around nervously, biting down on her bottom lip as she tried to figure out who among the surging crowd of commuters knew who she was.

The light changed and people began to move.

Caught up in the urban migration, Megumi was carried along, stepping down from the sidewalk onto the crosswalk. Someone stepped on the hem of the blanket, causing her to nearly stumble. Righting herself, she took a step forward, and then froze in place as she finally identified who had spoken.

What little color remained in her face bled out, leaving her as pale as a ghost. Her mouth opened, a name was uttered as she stared, eyes wide at the tall man standing just across the street from her. His hair was much longer, tied back in a ponytail, his clothing far more informal (was that a turtle with a top hat on his t-shirt?) than the crisp military uniform, resplendent with the trappings of a successful, charming solider.

His eyes however were the same, as was his commanding presence.

She glanced down at his hands. One was clenched; the other was holding a hooded sweatshirt. What was he doing here?

(Did Kenshin send you to find me?) She wondered, recalling the photo stickers of a laughing red haired child and an almost smiling enigma. (Am I going crazy?) She had to be. Good looking blasts from the past (and this man epitomized that particular category) just didn't show up in the middle of an intersection during rush hour.

Megumi took a hesitant step towards him, summoning up what little remained of her courage and opened her mouth again to say hello.

A man, rushing to make it across the street before the light changed again, while texting on his mobile, didn't watch where he was going and collided with her, nearly knocking her over. Righting herself, Megumi staggered to her feet, but in the process her blanket fell from her shoulders, revealing her ruined, blood stained scrubs.

"See!" The old woman, half way across the street, pointed, "I told you it was her - the one from the news conference!"

"No, Dear, I don't think so. That poor woman died - don't you remember?"

Horrified, Megumi pulled her blanket up around her and began backing up away from the arguing old couple. Other people were beginning to pay attention to the old woman's rambling outburst, so was the man she'd known for only one evening, but had never forgotten.

She looked at him,her eyes beseeching.

"I know what I saw and who I'm seeing!" The elderly battle ax apparently had a bit of an ax to grind.

The light turned yellow.

"They said that the assassin took the body with him and she's covered in blood. Who else could she be?"

The old woman pointed, but there was no one remaining.

Megumi began to run.

**HIKO**

It was her, and judging by her expression, she knew who he was, too. Caught up in the herd crossing the street, it was difficult to move through the flow. Hiko migrated along, but lunged forward as Megumi was nearly bowled over by a careless businessman. He growled, his hand tightening around the hoodie in a crushing grip. What a useless fool, so busy pursuing his money, he wasn't even paying attention to the world around him. There was no way he was going to make it to her in time, but she righted herself anyway, and for that he was relieved.

His relief quickly melted into horror as he took in the bloody clothes and some old woman began screeching about news conferences. Again, he tried to push through the crowd, and felt a little like a salmon swimming upstream. He met Megumi's pleading eyes, and unceremoniously pushed a rather slow-moving, utterly preoccupied couple out of the way, ignoring the irritated, "Hey!" that came from the man.

He sent a glare over his shoulder at the man, who quickly looked away, and continued across as the light changed to yellow.

As the already slow-moving migration came to a near stand-still of gawking and curiosity.

As that old bag pointed to the spot where Megumi had been.

Hiko stood frozen, and watched the woman he hadn't seen in twenty years bolt from the intersection. The foot-traffic quickly dispersed, sensing there was no longer a show to see, and the old woman continued on, her suspicions confirmed by Megumi's hasty retreat. A car honked; the light had changed.

The horn snapped Hiko from his trance, and he sprinted across the intersection, following the direction Megumi had gone. But all traces of her had vanished, melted away into the crowd flowing along the sidewalk, not even the flap of a blanket around a corner to give him a clue as to where she'd headed.

It was like she'd never been there at all. Hiko might have imagined it, like some withdrawal-induced hallucination. But that was years ago, and this was real. Megumi looked at him, they made eye contact and he saw recognition there. He kept walking, looking into alleys, noting the faces around him. A blur. Just a blur of unfamiliarity and he knew walking the streets wasn't going to do him a lick of good.

As he walked, he thought of what the old woman had said. A news conference. A body. Admittedly, Hiko had been holed up in his studio, working for the last couple of days. What had that woman been on about? There were murders every day. Why had that old bat pointed out Megumi? Hiko pulled the hoodie back on and crossed the street to weave his way back home. His gut told him Megumi was long gone. There was nothing he could do for her at present, but he could at least find out what was going on.

**MEGUMI **

Unable to resist (though against what she couldn't imagine) Megumi looked back over her shoulder for a moment, caught somewhere between terror and hope that she was being followed by the one person who had any idea who she really was. There was no sign of him. (It's probably for the best, as any sort of explanation I could provide Hiko-san would be both unbelievable and unredeemable).

The further she ran, the darker the alley became. The ground became dirty, littered first with the causal pollution of the middle class; half eaten food, thrown away magazines, plastic bags and mostly in-tact beer bottles.

Megumi gasped as she randomly turned down a smaller alley, black hair flying behind her, fear-based adrenaline giving her mostly healed body the extra speed she needed to put some distance between herself and the damn intersection a few blocks back. While whatever genetic manipulation her father had inflicted on her allowed for unnatural regeneration, rapid and unrelenting, she was no super solider, lacking any special strength or speed that would set her further apart from humanity than she already was. She was good for only one thing. One thing only. How utterly ironic or perhaps karmic that the one thing she wanted to experience was the one thing that her bastardized birthright denied her.

(I must have been an early member of the lab rat brigade) she thought abstractly as she tried to think of something else than the burning in her legs and thighs, analytical muscle memory kicking in out of habit and necessity.

(I wonder if my father experimented on me while I was in utero or shortly thereafter). A wild, keening sort of cackle may have escaped her open mouth at that moment. It was the sound that a witch might make, or perhaps, more fittingly, a monster. It didn't matter. Not now.

She had learned more about her father in the last 24 hours than she'd ever thought possible, learned things that made her stomach lurch, mind recoil and whatever remaining sense of hope she'd held for redemption, crumble and crunch like the discarded garbage being flattened beneath feet. I wish for death, while so many others who were subject to experimentation wished only for life and were willing to fight for it.

She thought of Capatain Sagara and his men.

She thought of Ken-san.

She thought of Rin.

An unexpected, nearly hysterical sob caught in her throat, chocking her breath completely as she thought of the journal Ken-san had shared with her, of the cipher girl Rin, faceless but no longer completely forgotten or nameless. (You wanted to experience life so badly, to have the normal experiences that any young person would hope for) Her eyes burned and coughing, trying to breathe again and match the meter of inhalations and exhalations with her footfalls, she stumbled, her bare feet sliding against some unknown (and probably unsanitary and of biological origin) wetness on the ground.

She tried to right her balance, but failed and fell awkwardly, skidding into an overflowing waste bin, the impact sending garbage everywhere and making an unholy din, the reverberations seeming endless to her frightened ears. Scrambling up, she looked up and around at the narrow alley, her wild eyes searching for and finding no signs of someone prying.

"Ow!" Megumi hissed as she tried to begin running again. The fall had left her with a twisted ankle, though, not a broken one, she decided as she the gingerly rotated the injured limb. Muttering something that well brought up ladies were not support to mutter, she sat down, hiding her body as best she was able behind the garbage bin and waited for her ankle to heal well enough to let her continue on her mad dash to God knows where.

Still panting, she tried to make as little noise as possible as she shrank back further, pressing her back up against the alley well. Hoping for and finding no radiant warmth from the bricks, she tried to ignore the pungent smell of spoilt food emanating from the bin and the rising sense of despair that was chasing her and nipping at her heels faster than a certain soldier could ever have, even if it had been two decades since she's last laid eyes on him.

Bringing her knees up close to her chest in an attempt to stay warm, she mentally recited Rin's last journal entry. It was becoming a mantra for her, a reminder of what had been lost and what she had promised to try and accomplish on behalf of a dead girl who likely was discarded ashes and would never know that her journal and with it her hopes and dreams had been found and now, after all these years mattered.

My name is Rin.

I am fourteen years old.

I have never, ever done anything worth writing about, but tonight I will make a list of the things I wanted to do. Perhaps if there is a next life, if I am meant for more than ashes, I will remember this list. I hope so, because it is a good one.

I have never, ever kissed a boy. I have never, ever gone all the way with a boy.

I have never, ever been to college. I have never, ever been married. I have never, ever been a mother.

I have never, ever seen the ocean, or the mountains. I have never, ever been to an opera or a ballet or a play.

I have never, ever painted with oil paints, or seen Paris, or eaten a croissant.

I have never, ever gone swimming at a swimming pool with a bikini on.

I have never, ever heard a boy tell me he loves me. I have never, ever told a boy I love him back.

I have never, ever really lived at all.

Mantra uttered, Megumi bowed her head against her knees and tried to tally what she had done in her life that would check of a box in Rin's list of hopes and dreams.

Hmmm…

College – well, that was a check and then some. Megumi had graduated from Tokyo Medical University with honors and had completed her residence before all bloody hell broke loose.

She also mentally checked off seeing the mountains and the ocean. Her family (not that "family" was the right word by any token based on recent and very unwelcome revelations) had been wealthy and a young girl, she was able to pull hazy but not entirely unwelcome memories of running along a sandy shoreline, darting forward when the waves moved out to sea and then squealing with delight and running back further into shore when they returned.

The memories of the mountains were less friendly, since that is where the military installation had been. She'd found them confining and suffocating, an imposing physical reminder of the fact she was trapped, surrounded. (That won't do then…I'll have to see some mountains again for Rin, and this time they shall be of my own choosing.)

Megumi blushed despite herself as the went through Rin's list again.

Like the girl gone before her, she'd never gone all the way with a man, though she could now say she'd shared a futon with one, two nights in a row, in fact! (How scandalous to have slept with a man, two nights in a row!)

"Oh-ho-ho!"

She involuntarily tittered at the thought and then wondered where in the hell the titter came from. (First cackling, then tittering, I must be going losing my mind after all). She considered whether the chaste peck she'd planted on Ken-san's check counted as a proper kiss. She wasn't sure since he'd never returned the impulsive gesture, and with her circumstances as they were, she was unlikely to find out any time soon.

If getting or giving a proper smooch seemed a bit daunting, the idea of marriage and motherhood was beyond impossible. (I don't know if I can even have children) She realized suddenly, trying to understand how a body that refused not to heal would handle the rigors and inherent changes that came with bearing and birthing a child. (Probably not…and probably for the best) she decided. She'd have to do something else for Rin, since those goals were, for all intensive purposes, impossible on multiple levels.

Painting with oil could and would be worked on, when and if things stabilized and she was able to have access to years of untouched wages. Considering the means by which the wages were earned, Megumi would have preferred to let the account rot and never touch the money that was soaked in suffering.

(It can't be helped…) Megumi thought,(there are so many things can't be helped at this point in my life…) Suddenly she registered movement and froze, ready to scream like a ninny or run like one depending on what the origination source of the sound happened to be.

"Mew,"

Megumi's cinnamon hued eyes went wide as a black alley cat suddenly appeared a few garbage cans down on the other side of the alley. It was a mangy looking thing (like attracts like, after all) with a hungry, flea bitten looking demeanor but to her surprise and subsequent delight, it didn't hiss at her or run away. Rather, it just watched her as warily as she watched it.

Remembering that she had rations, though she wasn't sure how a cat would feel about snacking on a protein bar, she reached into the crinkly plastic bag she'd been carrying and pulled out a bar and a bottled water that she'd taken with her from Ken-san's hiding place. Deliberately, not wanting to startle the alley cat, she ripped the protein bar wrapper and bit off a section holding it out towards the unexpected but surprisingly not unwelcome interloper.

"Here," she motioned, clueless as what do to when trying to ply a cat with protein so it would get closer to her. "I'm sure you're hungry." The alley cat stayed put, so to prove that she wasn't trying to poison it, Megumi bit off a small chunk of the bar and chewed it, forcing a bright smile on her face as she ground the nearly tasteless bar into swallow-able bits.

"See? It's good food."

That may have been a bit of an overstatement on the taste value of said protein bar, but the lump was nutritionally sound and certainly a cat could appreciate that, right? To her disappointment, the cat didn't move an inch, but it didn't run away either, so she figured that with time (and honestly where was she going to go?) she might win the feral beast over to her side.

"Let's see…where was I?" Megumi mused aloud. As for going swimming in a bikini, she knew the answer was no. Her father had been extremely strict about modesty and her staying out of sight and remaining as unforgettable as possible, so it had been one piece bathing suits for her.

"I did visit Paris right after I graduated from University and I did have a croissant though." Megumi gave a rather UN-lady-like snort. She'd gladly go without donning a bikini for the rest of her long, strange life, if she would have but one more bite of a French pastry. Her mouth watered at both the memory of seeing the City of Lights for the few days of freedom between undergraduate studies and entering medical school and the remembered taste of buttery flakes of golden, nearly translucent roll that filled her mouth with a micro-burst of butter, yeast and what had to be some sort of culinary magic.

Speaking of magic…)

Megumi's cheeks blossomed with a hint of color as the realized that she'd completed two more items on Rin's list, and had things gone differently, perhaps a few more checks could have been added to the list of life goals experienced.

After dutifully returning to Tokyo and while in her first year of medical school, for some unexplained reason, her father informed her one day that she would be joining him at a social function for the university, some sort of fund-raiser with a branch of the military. The soiree (yes, that had been the word her normally unflappable father had used) would be held at the New National Theatre in Tokyo, rebuilt and beautiful and as part of the evening's festivities, she would sit at her father's side and take in Rimsky-Korsakov's opera-ballet Mlada.

What an evening that was!)

Megumi closed her eyes and leaned her tired head against the dirty alley wall, willing everything dirty and cold around her except the cat of course) to melt from the heat and happiness of the memory.


	4. Chapter 4

New Meji

Year – 2037

New National Theatre of Tokyo

Megumi leaned forward, eyes going wide at the spectacle playing out before her. Dancers, clad in bright silks and pointe shoes, whirled about like spectral dervishes around Morena, the goddess of the underworld. While there was ballet in this production, the woman on whom Megumi fixed her gaze was an extraordinary mezzo-soprano, the aria a masterpiece on the interplay of power, manipulation, seduction and unholy pacts with the dead and the living.

Morena raised her arms, her flowing gown in a bruise palate of blues, blacks, purples and greys, and her voice rang out as she sealed her pact with the antagonist, Voyslava, a selfish princess who had murdered an innocent woman so that she could claim the deceased woman's lover as her own.

"What are you doing?"

Megumi tore her attention away from the aria's culmination and over to where her father was sitting. Glad in a tuxedo, his expression was unusually severe.

"There are people watching us." He hissed, his rebuke barely above a whisper. "They are watching you. Perhaps I was wrong to have you attend this function if you are going to gawk at everything like a half-wit rather than a gown adult and a promising medical student."

Megumi felt color flooding her cheeks and looked down at her lap, embarrassed, where her hands were clasped tightly together, her knuckles turning white as she tried to control her emotions. From beneath her lashes she looked around at the theatre, especially in the boxes that were nearby where other invited members of the university and military were sitting. Her heart sank as she realized that her father, as usual was absolutely correct and there were people indeed watching, their expressions mixed. Some faces were unreadable, some were disapproving, others humored and in one case, she thought that she caught in the attendee's dark black eyes a measure of compassion.

She swallowed, took a steadying breath and then looked back up, forcing her features to become still and (she hoped) poised. Sitting up as straight as she could, she tried to emotionally separate herself from the beautiful music and dancing and remain still. The music however, had other ideas and despite her best efforts, she felt the beguiling tide of music and song pulling her back into it. Her breathing and pulse secretly joined in the dancing and despite another angrily whispered warning from her father, her eyes welled up as the murdered Mlada and her lover Yaromir were reunited, finally, in heaven.

When the performance was done and the performers were taking their bows, Megumi was on her feet and clapping, perhaps a little louder than a young lady ought, her delight and appreciation naked on her face.

"Get your things." Her father, Dr. Takani ordered.

"We're leaving?" Megumi asked, since the events of the evening were only half over.

"No, you are. You've embarrassed me enough for one evening. I had hoped, foolishly it seems, that you had the potential to be an asset to my efforts to forward my work." His disappointment bit at her sharply. "Instead you've proven yourself to be nothing but a liability." He motioned again that she take up her clutch and head for the nearest exit.

Megumi nodded slightly and forced a smile. (I will not cry. I will not!) Steeling her features, she tried to make her way out of the theatre as if nothing was wrong. She was getting good at this façade, or at least trying to.

Making her way down the large staircase, her gloved hand gripping the marble circular balustrade a tad too tightly, she did her best to appear calm and beyond caring for silly things like this. There was music below, coming from the fully opened ballroom in the renovated building, a spacious, beautifully decorated room that was designed for fundraisers such as this one. People were mingling, some even dancing as the music swelled, the nearly perfectly designed acoustics of the theatre making it feel as if the marble stone itself was singing.

For a moment, Megumi's aloof demeanor slipped. Not yet twenty, this long-awaited evening was going to end far too soon for her liking. She glanced down at her dress, eyes fixing on it's pleats rather than daring to show the threatening tears of disappointment. It was midnight blue, simply cut but beautiful nevertheless. It was the first formal dress she'd ever owned and suspected that it might well be the last after her failure to control herself. She was so focused on her dress that she failed to see the tall man climbing up the stairs and bumped right into him.

"Oh!" Megumi looked up….and then had to look up some more. (Goodness!) The man looking down at her with a bit of a smirk was tall (very tall!) and handsome (very handsome!) and she'd just bumped into him. "I'm sorry." She felt her face explode with color as she stammered out an apology and tried to skitter around the man, a decorated member of the military based on his uniform.

"Now, where do you think you're going?"

Owlishly, Megumi looked up at the officer, wondering why he was impeding her attempts to skitter away and hopefully avoid a confrontation with her father. "I'm…leaving."

"Without a dance? I think not." The handsome officer smiled at her. Megumi's knees did a weird wobbly thing, echoed a second later by her heart.

"A dance? What – with me?" Megumi inwardly cursed at the stupid, girlish response that she blurted out. She could hear her father behind her as he came down the stairs, his anger so strong it could be felt rather than seen.

"It would be my pleasure." The officer smiled again and offered her a large muscular arm which she took anxiously.

"Likewise," she said, praying to ever Bodhisattva that she could think of that she was saying the right thing and not acting like a twit. "Thank for the invitation."

"Megumi!" Dr. Takani was now behind her. She froze, her grip on the tall man's arm becoming vise-like.

"Ah, so this is the name of this lovely young woman." Megumi looked up at the tall officer. He was still smiling, but his eyes were now centered on her father and were no longer warm. "Is this your daughter, Sir?"

Dr. Takani gave the tall man a measured look of his own, his gaze falling to the many bars, chevrons and other militaristic regalia on the decorated officer's uniform. His expression changed from one of annoyance and anger, to something shrewder and more polished.

"Yes, this is my daughter, Takani Megumi," her father said smoothly. "She is a medical student at the University of Tokyo. Top of her class, of course. As part of her studies, she'll be working with me on our joint project, which I am sure you're aware of?"

The office nodded, mentally marking the doctor as a moron and a security risk for having the gall to mention a top secret in the middle of a fundraiser.

"Quite."

He looked down at the young woman clutching at his arm like her life depended on and then back at the celebrated research doctor who was an integral part of a top-secret project that again ought NOT to be mentioned at a fund raiser (What an idiot) that he and select others of various military branches would soon be participating in.

"Then I'm sure you won't mind If your daughter and I, what with being collaborators and all, go and enjoy the evenings festivities." Megumi noted that the last statement had not been posed as a question, but rather a fact.

"Of course. Of course." Megumi looked at her father as if he was sprouting another head, unused to seeing the more astute political side of the man. "After all, isn't that what this evening is all about? You young people enjoying life?" He looked at Megumi with the approximation of fondness. "Have a lovely time, Dear. I look forward to you sharing how the evening transpires."

Megumi stared at her father, her confused expression becoming bleak and nodded her head, slightly.

"Shall we?" The office's smile met his eyes this time and ignoring her father completely, he whisked her down the staircase and into the ballroom.

"Thank you, Officer?" She glanced up, uncertain of this rank or title. (Goodness!) Her stomach/heart did another wibble and wobble as their eyes met.

"Seijouro Hiko at your service, Ma'am"

Megumi noticed the ease and confidence of the officer's response and movement and envied his ability to enter into a space as if he was the master of it. She tried his name out and found it to her liking. "Thank you."

"No thanks are needed, my dear." The all officer said smoothly, moving through the mass of people (who made way for him is if they were waves controlled by the Christian Prophet Moses) swept her along with him to the near center of the room. "I thought you needed an assist there with your old man."

Megumi glanced up at him, her eyes glinting with what might have been bemusement. "Oh, I had everything under control." She was rather pleased that she was able to respond with the approximation of a joke and unable to help herself, flipped her hair out of habit.

The officer laughed then, teeth perfect and white, the sound as infectious as his smile. "Clearly."

The orchestra started into a song. Megumi listened carefully, identified the correct tempo and time signature and to recall everything she could from the few lessons she'd been able to manage in preparation for this evening.

"Relax."

Megumi looked up the officer as he took her in his arms (very large arms!) and began to move, guiding her in a basic circle around the floor. The instructor who had taught her the rudimentary basics of this sort of dancing had told her to expect the man to tell her how to move and where to go by exerting subtle pressure with his fingers, arm or leg. That's how she would know how to follow and what to do.

"I said relax," Hiko looked down at her, perhaps amused at the serious and slightly nervous woman's expression. "Don't think about what you're doing. You'll be fine. After all, you're dancing with me." As if that settled it.

Megumi nodded and soon, she wasn't thinking. Unlike her middle-aged instructor, Hiko didn't jab her waist with a finger or pull her arms in the direction he wanted her to go. He just moved, as naturally as flowing water might, and she moved along with him, a leaf riding the inexorable current. They moved round, simply at first and then, once Hiko and taken her measure and she had taken his, with a bit more flourish.

(This is wonderful) Megumi thought as the tempo picked up. (He is wonderful) It was a waltz, a simple time signature, but in the hands (and feet) of Seijuro Hiko, it became something exciting. Beautiful. Breathtaking. He spun her out and then pulled her back into his arms, like a sun pulling a small planet into its natural orbit. The many medals on his chest glittered in the light of the ballroom, offset by the dress a shade lighter than midnight and the young woman wearing laughed when he did it again and then caught herself when the happy sound caused some people to stare at the couple, not wanting to act out of turn.

"You're overthinking things again." Hiko chided as he spun her again, for good measure. "Focus on this moment. Focus on this split second in time that you'll have once and never experience again." He laughed and added for good measure, "Focus on me."

"I can do that." Megumi said, her face blossoming into something unstudied and sincere.

And she did. For that singular evening, for the first time in her life, she let her attention center on a moment rather than a myriad of future scenarios and past failures and fears. Rather than looking over her shoulder, seeking out the face of a perpetually disappointed father, she focused on the tall man dancing with her and as time passed and her own confidence and ease grew, let him focus on her.

The night continued on and they talked, danced and shared. Megumi tried champagne for the first time in her life and Hiko laughed at her surprised, puckered expression at the taste. He then introduced her to some of his fellow officers and she did the same with the few medical students and professors who were in attendance.

And then, as all good things must, the evening began to wind to a close. People began to take their leave. The open bar closed up and at last, the orchestra stopped playing all together.

"Thank you, for this evening," Megumi said. Her cheeks were pink from dancing all night and she felt as light as a feather. "It was wonderful." (You were wonderful)

"Yes, it was." Hiko nodded, confident as ever. Despite him being near her own age, he seemed years ahead of her in so many things and had already experienced so much that life had to offer. "I'm glad that we had the opportunity to get to know each other."

"Me too." Megumi glanced up at him, her shyness returning as the evening came to a close.

"You'll be off soon?" Unlike her father, she knew better than to mention things of a secret nature in a public place. She felt a pang in her heart when he nodded. There was so much about the project she didn't know about other than it was very important and she was lucky to have a chance to be a part of it. Unlike this decorated officer, she was a medical student who was involved only because her father was leading the project.

"We leave next week."

"I hope that things go well and that you stay safe." Unsure why she added the last part, since clearly the man had everything under control, Megumi forced herself to remove her arm from the officer's. She looked up at him again, still marveling at how tall and handsome he was and her happy demeanor changed, like the color of the sky as a full moon sets behind the mountains of New Meiji. Like it or not, they lived in a time of civil war and war always resulted in casualties. Always.

"I'll be just fine." Hiko looked down that the slender woman. "We'll see each other again."

"We will?" Megumi wasn't old enough or practiced enough to hide how much that promise meant to her.

"Absolutely. I'm certain of it." Hiko gave her a bow. Such an old fashioned thing for an officer to do to a medical student, but she returned the gesture in the proper fashion for a woman. He then led her to where her father's car was waiting outside, bade her farewell and walked away, his tall frame consumed by the rising morning sun.

Slowly Megumi opened her eyes and looked out and around at the dark alley where she was pressed up, half hidden behind an overflowing garbage bin.

She'd eagerly waited for word on this officer, for a call, a letter, anything. She'd waited for any news, any at all about this imposing, handsome man who in the course of an evening had become a cherished friend. As the days and then the months and then the years passed, her search for news of her friend, of the one person who had ever caused her heart to skip a beat or his knees to become wobbly, became more pragmatic, dreadfully so. War changed everyone, and this one was particularly adept at transforming hope into ashes.

Like many during the civil war years, she kept her eyes peeled for his name and military picture to appear along with the other fallen heroes on the electronic casualty lists that lit up the New Meiji Skyline. The civil war was brutal and the government made sure that every citizen knew the tremendous toll that victory entailed.

More time passed and when she could and if she remembered, she methodically checked morbidity tables and other macabre, clinical records to see if anyone came into the morgues that matched his physical description. No one ever did, which was a relief. One decade passed and she wondered if he was dead. Another decade, tore through New Meiji, a terrible one that caught her up and spit her out like a rusty meat grinder, and she knew he'd not survived and at the time, the pain of accepting that he was dead was replaced with thankfulness that he would never know that his confidence and bravery had been sorely misplaced, for the great project and programs that had seemed so exciting and patriotic ended up being nothing much more than government sponsored murder, mutilation of experimentation of not only her generation, but Ken-san's as well. The fact she'd had an active hand in that horror was nearly too painful and shameful to contemplate.

(Ken-san)

Her chance meeting with the Hitokiri (who for her would always, not matter what, be anything other than a monster) had shown her that Hiko had survived, at least up to a point and then today…seeing him across the street had been both a jolt of happiness and a blow of despair that was still biting. He was older now, his still handsome face showed the passage of time as hers never would, his surprise echoing her own.

Megumi wondered what he would have said to her if she'd not run away. She wondered what she would have…could have said to him after the passage of so much time and so many terrible choices.

(Generously, she kept his choice of owning a shirt with a hat wearing turtle from the list of mistakes she was sure they had both made.)

"Meow."

Startled Megumi looked at the rattling trash bin across the street, torn from her reverie by the wary alley cat who had decided to take a liking to her after all. With the coolness inherent in the feline species, the mangy animal hopped out of the garbage and sauntered over to where she was crouched. It eyed her and she eyed it and then, slowly, carefully, she reached out and gave it a gentle scratch on the head. She'd had a cat once as a child, decades ago and if memory served, this is the sort of thing cats liked.

The cat froze for a moment, then relaxed under her hand and began to purr, the sound not unlike an ill-kept small mechanical engine sputtering to life after years of neglect. A part of Megumi, long dead from disuse and despair made a similar (though silent) noise as she shrared the rest of the protein bar and bottle of water with what she assumed was her new pet (or was it the other way around – with cats, you never really knew).

"Well, come on then," she said, forcing herself to stand up and resume her escape (though where she was escaping to was still completely uncertain).


End file.
